


not gay

by simplyclockwork



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Crack, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mild Smut, Retirement, Sherlock says 'put it in my butt', Wedding, proposal, rather silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: John's not gay. Sherlock knows.It doesn't matter.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 42
Kudos: 205





	not gay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AnneCumberbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/gifts), [PatPrecieux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/gifts), [OmalleyMeetsTibbs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmalleyMeetsTibbs/gifts), [InkAtHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkAtHeart/gifts).
  * Translation into Italiano available: [not gay (di simplyclockwork)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24660283) by [tieniiltempo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieniiltempo/pseuds/tieniiltempo)



> Annecumberbatch wrote a hilarious [crack fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575455) based on a conversation we had, and it made me want to write something, too. It's a silly gift for y'all, but I'm gifting it to a few people specifically as well.

Their first meeting, Sherlock winks at him. He gives John his address, and whirls from the room, citing the need to retrieve his forgotten riding crop from the mortuary. 

Dazed, left reeling in his wake, John blinks. Looking at Mike, he says, “I’m not gay.”

Mike nods wisely. “Sure, mate.” 

***

Their new landlady thinks they should share a bedroom. There are ‘married ones’ next door. Watching Sherlock throw piles of papers into boxes, John mutters, “I’m not gay.” 

“I know,” says Sherlock. 

Glad that’s settled, John follows Sherlock into the streets of London without a second thought.

***

Angelo brings a candle for the table. More romantic, he says. 

Staring at the flickering flame, John frowns. “I’m not gay.”

Sherlock, still looking out the window, eyes fixed on the passing traffic, nods absently. 

“I know.”

***

“Did he follow you home?” asks Sally Donovan, sneering into Sherlock’s exasperated face.

John ducks under the police tape, swallowing loudly. “Er, I’m not gay.”

“Didn’t say you were, mate,” Donovan replies.

“Okay.”

***

Sherlock’s lips are warm against his, their unsteady breathing hot and fast between their connected mouths. Pressing Sherlock back against the wall at the bottom of the staircase of 221B, John grinds into him and pants, “I’m not gay.”

Sherlock nods, hands slipping under John’s shirt to rove over his chest. 

“I know,” he says. 

Closing his eyes, John tastes Sherlock’s tongue. 

***

The bedroom is dark, the sheets tangled around their twined legs. Sliding down Sherlock’s body, John lips at the head of his cock, takes it into his mouth with hollowed cheeks. Sherlock squirms beneath him, gripping handfuls of blanket in white-knuckled fingers.

Lips sliding off the tip of Sherlock’s erection with a loud, obscene _pop,_ John clears his throat. 

“I’m not gay.”

“I know,” moans Sherlock, wiggling his hips. “Now, put it in my butt.” 

Reaching for the lube, John nods. “Okay.” 

***

The restaurant feels more crowded than usual, the air harder to breathe. In his suit jacket pocket, the ring box presses into his side, and John resists the urge to touch it. Across the table, Sherlock watches with sharp eyes as John rises from his chair and bends to one knee. 

“I’m not gay,” he says, holding out the open box, overhead light glinting off the silver ring. 

Sliding it onto his finger, eyelashes damp with surprising emotion, Sherlock nods, choking out, “I know.” 

***

His suit is hot, cut tight to his body. John tugs at his tie and grimaces. When Sherlock reaches out to take his hands, he lets him, their fingers twining together under the watchful eyes of friends and family.

“You may now recite your vows,” the officiant says. 

Looking into Sherlock’s glittering eyes, John swallows around a lump. 

“I’m not gay.” His voice breaks on the final syllable. 

Wiping a suspiciously damp glimmer from his cheek, Sherlock’s smile is radiant. 

“I know.” 

***

On their honeymoon, Sherlock drags him on a case, the two of them crashing into their suite afterward with rosy cheeks and mirth in their mouths. Falling into the bed together, ripping at one another’s clothes, John gasps, “I’m not gay!”

“I know!” Sherlock groans before taking both their hard cocks in hand, making John’s hips jerk upward. 

***

The cottage is perfect, resplendent with wisteria and crawling ivy over dark brickwork. 

Signing the purchase papers, his name next to Sherlock’s, John looks over the property with a contented sigh. 

“I’m not gay,” he breathes, feeling Sherlock come up behind him. His long arms wind around John’s waist.

“I know,” Sherlock murmurs. His lips drift along the side of John’s neck, and John leans back into him with a blissful smile.

***

Old and grey, they sit together on the patio of their cottage. The sun is rising in the distance, shooting colour across the horizon. 

Reaching out, John finds Sherlock’s hand, feeling wrinkles and age spots beneath his fingertips.

“I might be a little gay.” The words sigh out of John, a whispered admission. 

Sherlock turns his head, his still-bright eyes flashing with mirth.

“I know,” he says.


End file.
